


To All the Boys Who Made Me Question My Sanity

by ProblematicFavesOnly (ThatsSoNotRaven)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Keith has a 0.2 sec crushes on everyone but it’s Klance endgame lol, M/M, Mutual Pining, Probably some angst, Slow Burn, its just a To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU tbh, we’ll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsSoNotRaven/pseuds/ProblematicFavesOnly
Summary: No, Kieth had never been in love, and he wasn’t planning on falling any time soon.In fact, he had a solid methodology since middle school for systematically preventing his feelings from getting out of hand. Whenever he felt himself developing romantic feelings for someone, what some might call a “crush”, he would write a letter detailing all of their faults and incompatibilities and “think” his way out of it.BOOM. Solved it.If they weren’t gonna work, there was no point in having a crush. It was a logical, reasonable, and relatively healthy coping mechanism, and it had served him pretty well so far seeing as all his “crushes” inevitably faded away, the only evidence they ever even existed being that stack of letters he kept stuffed in a box in the back of his closet.The box contained five letters stacked chronologically by when they were written, addressed to the following: Ryan, Hunk, Lance, James.. and now Matt.To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before - Klance AU





	1. The Call Them “Crushes” for a Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first fic, I wrote this on a whim its trash and unedited. Pls be gentle. <3

Kieth Kogane was seventeen years old, and could say without a shadow of doubt that he had never been in love before.

That being said, he wasn’t as cold hearted as everyone seemed to think. He had had... infatuations. Some momentary lapses of judgement on his part when he would slip up, and before he realized he was daydreaming about some boy and sighing into his cereal, earning him some sly looks and teasing comments from Shiro or Pidge.

Thankfully his older brother and neighbor/childhood friend were the only two people who seemed to pay enough attention to see through what Pidge refers to as his “cool and mysterious 80s movie bad boy cosplay meets early 2000s emo band drummer who just fucked your boyfriend” persona “wrapped in a cropped leather jacket of gay angst”.

People at school who didn’t know him tended to assume if they attempted conversation they’d end up stabbed, which is a totally unfair assumption. You stab one guy in fourth grade with plastic scissors and do a sword throwing trick at the talent show auditions ONE time, suddenly you’re That Guy Who Stabs People for the rest of your educational career. The kid he stabbed with _plastic_ scissors was trying to stick gum in Keith’s hair, not that anyone asked.

No, Kieth had never been in love, and he wasn’t planning on _falling_ any time soon.

In fact, he had a solid methodology since middle school for systematically preventing his feelings from getting out of hand. Whenever he felt himself developing romantic feelings for someone, what some might call a “crush”, he would write a letter detailing all of their faults and incompatibilities and “think” his way out of it.

BOOM. Solved it.

If they weren’t gonna work, there was no point in having a crush. It was a logical, reasonable, and relatively healthy coping mechanism, and it had served him pretty well so far seeing as all his “crushes” inevitably faded away, the only evidence they ever even existed being that stack of letters he kept stuffed in a box in the back of his closet.

The box contained five letters stacked chronologically by when they were written, addressed to the following: Ryan, Hunk, Lance, James.. and now Matt.

He wrote his first letter when he was eleven. He and Ryan Kinkade were in the same gym class, Ryan was always team captain, and Keith was always the first one he picked to be on his team. Whenever their team would win at kickball, or dodgeball, or whatever the “ball” of the week was, Ryan run up to him waiting for a high-five and say “don’t mess with Kinkade and Kogane!”, safe to say that was the epitome of romance in eleven year old Keith’s mind.

The letter read, “Ryan, we would never work out. You’re cute and cool and great at sports, but you spend too much time on your YouTube channel and I don’t really like being recorded. Aren’t you scared that stuff is gonna be on the internet like... forever? Honestly I also don’t get the point of most of the videos you send me... what’s the point of.. planking? Also I’m pretty sure you have a crush on Jen, since Sean saw you passing her notes during Geometry. Plus, you live a 20 min bike ride away, if anything were to happen between us it would surly get in the way of both our after school schedules. I’m gonna miss your high fives. Best, Keith.”

Eleven year-old Keith made some pretty good points, to be fair.

The following year they were in different gym classes and Ryan and Jen did end up going to the spring dance together, though they broke up two weeks after.

Keith’s second “crush”, though he hates the term, was during summer camp when he was thirteen.

Shiro was in high school and had gotten a job at an ice cream parlor for the summer, their dad didn’t want Kieth alone at home all day watching x-files reruns (probably for the best) so he signed him up for camp. What his father failed to notice was that it was specifically culinary camp.

By the time they realized it was too late to get a refund and so Keith was thrown into a very niche group of pre-teens with well developed, complex opinions on soufflé preparation and detailed fantasies about going on master chef junior. That was his social sphere for two months. The most culinary experimentation he had ever attempted up to that point was mixing Fruit Loops and Frosted Flakes in the same bowl.

Hunk, the camp star student, taking Keith under his wing was the only thing that got him through it and kept him from blowing up the campsite. That gratitude developed into an innocent crush on Hunk, which looking back was probably 99% just admiration that a human being could be so wonderful AND make such delightful canapés. The universe was not worthy.

Keith’s letter to Hunk expanded on this idea, detailing how if Hunk was to go off and become the globally renowned Michelin star chef he was destined to be, he couldn’t have Keith holding him back in this nowhere-town. The Blink-182 he was listening to really seeped into the tone on this one.

Predictably his crush faded away, though he kept in touch and stayed friends with Hunk. Though they go to different high schools he’ll invite Keith over sometimes to try out some new recipients he’s working on. Hunk was most definitely not at that camp by mistake, and as embarrassing as it was, Keith was glad he got a friendship, and newfound ability to make croissants from scratch, out of the whole thing.

And then there was Lance.

How does one explain Lance McClain?

Lance. Lance drove him insane.

Lance flirted with everything that crossed his path before he should have known what flirting was, and it was lucky for Keith that, although they were always at the same schools, at least the universe waited until he was fifteen to throw him onto a collision course with Lance McClain.

They had English Lit. together freshman year. The class was reading Shakespeare, which was fitting seeing as Lance was the most dramatic human being Keith had ever encountered in his entire life, and Keith grew up with Pidge. He was also magnetic, and charming, and charismatic. And predictably insisted on reading for Romeo, earning him an eye roll from half the class and a swoon from the other half.

Keith was in the eye-roll (suppressed swoon) portion. Their teacher, the eccentric but ever endearing Mr. Coran, thought he had great enunciation and needed to work on his participation grade, so he insisted Keith read for Juliet. “So the girls won’t fight over our Loverboy Lance, here,” he had explained. At the expense of Keith’s sanity, of course.

Being the focus of all that crazy Lance energy was.. a lot.

What are you supposed to do when you’re fifteen and the overly dramatic **hot**  hot mess that you’ve been rolling your eyes at for months seems to thrive on your annoyance?? It’s like the more deadpan stares and emotionless delivery Keith gave him, the more enthusiastic Lance became; climbing over desks, draping himself at Keith’s feet, dragging him into a half-assed waltz in the middle of classroom 108-B.

Keith tried to resist it with every fiber in his being, but he was charmed by Lance. And when he’d go over to Pidge’s house and rant about how he “didn’t know what this McClain kid’s problem was” and “why does he know what a mullet is anyway”, Pidge would just raise an eyebrow and give him a pointed stare.

Yep, it was letter time.

A letter had never been so called for.

Lance was obnoxious and loud, held an unnecessary amount of intense eye contact and seemed to have zero understanding of what personal space meant.

The kid always had to get the last word in on EVERYTHING.

He used a gratuitous amount of finger guns.

Scratch that, any use of finger guns whatsoever was a gratuitous amount of finger guns.

Also he was clearly a player— not that it mattered because Lance clearly only flirted with Keith for the same reason he flirted with literally anyone in front of him: to pass the time.

And that was the main reason this crush needed to be extinguished as soon as possible, stated and restated in bold, all caps and repeatedly underlined:

 **LANCE** **MCCLAIN** **IS** **A** **PLAYER** **AND** **WILL** **BREAK** **YOUR** **HEART**.

But that was two years ago —spoiler alert: Keith survived freshman English— and towards the end of that year Lance started dating Allura, which seemed to rein in his fuckboy tendencies. Though he was skeptical about it at first, even Keith had to admit they made a cute, albeit a bit cliche, “homecoming king & queen - high-school sweethearts - somehow perfectly styled hair 24/7” movie poster couple.

Keith started working at his dad’s garage that summer, and there he met James Griffin.

Where his crush on Lance had felt burning and intense and unavoidable and all-consuming, Griffin was... practical.

Griffin’s dad had bought him a used car for his 16th birthday, it wasn’t in the best shape but he was set on “sprucing it up” which lead to a lot of afternoon visits to the garage, asking Keith about his opinion on different engine parts. One thing lead to another; shop talk lead to sneaking out to smoke, which lead to ordering pizza, and that lead to make-out sessions in the supply closet... which kind of developed into a “thing”. But this was specifically a “summer” thing, and Keith knew that, but there’s knowing and then there’s _knowing_.

So when summer ended and the finality of it set in Keith sat down on his desk and wrote out his letter, sealed it, set it on top of the pile, and moved on with his life. It was circumstantial, and although he felt like he should be more upset about the whole thing, Keith knew they wouldn’t have worked out even if circumstances had allowed it.

They just didn’t... click.

It was fun and it was nice and they liked each other, but to have pushed for more would have been a waste of both their times.

Now if you think that sounds like a practical and mature way to deal with your emotions, buckle up friends, because Keith’s brain proceeded to throw all that pragmatism out the window and develop a crush on none other than MATT HOLT.

Of all the people in the universe (aka small suburban town) to get a crush on, Matt Holt was decidedly the worst option.

Why? For starters, Pidge was Keith’s closest friend.

Matt was practically family.

They would celebrate holidays together, they all went on camping trips together, they had barbecues together.

Matt was also a year older than Keith and had just graduated, so now he was taking a gap year and working as an assistant track coach at the high school; which put anything ever happening between them in a decidedly grey area seeing as Keith was on the track team.

Last, but also most importantly, Matt has had the most glaringly obvious hero-worship crush on Keith’s brother Shiro since the dawn of time.

Now Shiro was twenty and away at college, but it doesn’t really count as “away” when your college campus is a 30 min drive and you spend more time at home that you do at your dorm.

So having a crush on Matt was a bad idea, a very very very VERY bad idea.

Which is why Keith decided to just not.. have a crush on Matt anymore.

He would just have to... de-crush the situation, via logical secret letter.

They had been spending more time together because of the extra summer track practices, and then Matt giving Keith rides to and from said track practices, and bonding over a mutual love for documentaries about cult leaders and conspiracy theories. It’s not Keith’s fault, it just felt like they... clicked.

But it was a bad idea on every conceivable level so Keith did the only acceptable thing to do in this situation. Write a letter. Lay out in minute detail all of the reasons having a crush on Matt was a terrible idea, and then stuff it in the back of his closet.

 

So that’s where Keith was the morning of his first day of Junior year, stuffing a box of letters in the back of his closet. It was going to be a long year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a preview idk how this happen but i guess i wrote it and now it exists and is posted on the internet..... later there will be actual dialogue and interactions and plot. This is gonna be as much of a surprise for y’all (if anyone actually reads it) as it will be for me soooooo... woohoo


	2. What’s the Worst That Could Happen?

“Keith!”

Keith was reaching up on his shitty wooden stool to push the box of letters onto the top shelf in his closet (goddam Shiro for getting all the hight in the family), when the sound of some particularly insistent knocking outside his door made him loose his footing.

Oh, no.

Great. He was now tumbling back and not-so-graciously hitting his head against the hardwood floor of his bedroom, sending the box he had been holding up into the air, and his already sleep deprived brain into a possible concussion.

“Keith, are you fucking serious right now?!”

The knocking was getting progressively louder.

How Pidge had this much energy this early in the morning was truly beyond him.

“Keith!! You better be ready, because I will drag you out of this room regardless. I’m not gonna be late for my first day of high school because my ride spent half an hour deciding between wearing a black or a dark grey t-shirt.— I hope you’re decent, because I’m coming in.”

And with that heartwarming warning, Pidge pushed open the door to Keith’s bedroom.

Probably not the scene she was expecting, though at this point in her life Pidge should know to expect the unexpected. She had, more than once, walked in on Keith and Shiro recreating Star Wars duel sequences. Both in full costume, with toy lightsabers, reciting the dialogue from memory with a frightening level of accuracy. She had seen Matt not change out of his pajamas for two and a half weeks straight one summer. She once walked in on Keith burning his ear while attempting to straighten his hair in the seventh grade.

Little to nothing could faze her by now.

Now she walked in on Keith, thankfully fully dressed in a predictably all black jeans and t-shirt ensamble, sprawled on the floor by his closet door cupping the back of his head, surrounded by tissue paper, an overturned stool and several scattered blue envelopes.

She stared down at him with her trademark expression: part impatient, part unimpressed, fully done with his shit.

“I would make a ‘coming out of the close’ joke, but we’re on a tight schedule here.”

Thankfully, she took some pity on him and offered a hand to pull him up. That was a good sign, he hadn’t checked the time, but that meant Keith probably wasn’t as late as he thought. Pidge was just extra on edge about her first day.

“Yeah, sorry. Let me clean this up, one sec.”, Keith mumbled as he dusted himself off, rolling his head back again and feeling for a bruise. Yep. Was definitely going to bruise. Once the damage was assessed, he started leaning down, reaching to pile up the letters, which somehow spread out seemingly as far as physically possible on Keith’s limited floor space.

“I promise we won’t be late. I’ll meet you downstairs.” As he leaned down to pick up the closest envelope he was snatched back by his left arm and pulled out of his door and towards the staircase.

Pidge was not having it,

“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” she said.

He definitely didn’t want to get in Pidge’s way when she was using that tone. He couln’t handle that kind of confrontation right now. 

“You’re coming down immediately. Shiro’s downstairs making you eggs.”

“That’s... actually really nice. But really, Pidge, it’s two secon—“

“— Do I look like I care whether you eat a nutritious breakfast? No. I do not. But I’m not gonna be at the receiving end of a Disappointed Shiro Look because you didn’t have time to eat his wholesome home cooked meal. Maybe you can live with that on your conscience, Keith, but I can’t. You can clean your shit when you get home.”

And before Keith had a say in the matter he was being dragged down the stairs by a fifteen year old, all he could do was cast one forlorn glance behind his shoulder at the blue envelopes on the floor.

This was fine, right? What’s the worst that could happen? He’d be back in eight hours. It’s not like anyone was going to sneak into his room in the middle of the school day and open his mail. Keith was a cautious guy, but that was just borderline paranoia. This was fine.

Any thought of the letters went to the back of his mind as Keith got shoved into a seat at the kitchen table. He was hit with the deliciously greasy smell of sizzling eggs and bacon, and the amusing sight of his brother in a black and white checkered cooking apron humming Build Me Up Buttercup along to the radio like a nineteen-fifties housewife. 

Pidge was right, this was painfully wholesome.

Just when you thought Shiro couldn’t possibly get any more wholesome, he out did himself. He needed to be protected at all costs. 

“It’s a Monday. Do you ever actually go to class, or is that just a scam for Dad?”, Keith mused.

Shiro turned around and flashed his playful, sincere, million dollar smile.

Keith would like to say he was immune to it having grown up with Shiro, but his brother had a tendency to outdo himself. Shiro just had a way of lighting up a room. Being effortlessly 100% perfect wasn’t enough, he was somehow 110%. Like Beyoncé.

Keith might have resented Shiro in another lifetime, if he wasn’t so busy admiring and relying on him.

As it was, Shiro was the most important constant in Keith’s life. It sounds cliche, but Shiro was his True North. The person who knew him the best, the only one he knew he could count on unconditionally.

As much as people tried to compare them or pit them against each other, Keith knew he could never truly resent or compete with Shiro.

And though Shiro was around a lot, more than most college kids for sure, it was still different. Keith still missed him.

“They don’t tell you this, but college is pretty much a scam. All I have today is one two hour lecture, and that doesn’t start until noon.”, Shiro replied, as he finished setting up Keith’s breakfast plate and placed it in front of him.

“My brother, the future of this nation, ladies and gentlemen.” Keith absentmindedly grabbed the syrup and poured it over his eggs and bacon as he fell into this familiar back and forth. He really missed Shiro. 

“Hey, if this college thing doesn’t work out, at least I make a mean omelette. I’m what I think the kids would call... wifey material.”

Keith fixed him with a long blank stare.

“Never say those words again.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, as he finished sorting out all the kitchen utensils, he took a seat at the table oposite Keith.

“I’ve actually gotten pretty good at meal hacks these past few months, I have considerably upped my sandwich game. The other day I was talking to Matt, he was saying we should do another camping trip, take the tents and some picnic food. He found his old telescope, there’s meant to be a lunar eclipse at the end of the month. Hopefully you and Pidge aren’t too busy with school stuff, we can all go. It’s been a while since we’ve managed to all do something together.”

Keith couldn’t suppress his instinctive, tired sigh and eye roll response to that. He tried to, he really did. It was stronger than him. 

Yes. Keith’s sure when Matt suggested a romantic stargazing picnic trip with Shiro, he was most definitely hoping younger siblings would tag along.

For such a smart person, Shiro could be so amazingly dense sometimes.

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

Keith continues to down his admittedly amazing breakfast when he notices the room is suspiciously peaceful.

“Speaking of the Holts, where did Pidge go? She was the one harassing me about not being late.”

It seemed to have also slipped Shiro’s mind, because he frowned and looked towards the door, then down at his watch.

“I think she said she had to send out some mail. She should be back by now though, you guys need to get going.”

Speak of the devil. Pidge then barges through their front door wearing a helmet, with her backpack wrapped in what looks like five layers of bubble wrap. Standing at the doorway she looks between them and Keith’s motorcycle, parked in front of the house.

“Shiro are you SURE you can’t drive us? I have sensitive equipment in here. You’ve seen Keith’s bike.” Pidge is cluthing her bag to her chest and using he best puppy-dog eyes, but she knows deep down its a lost cause. Worth a shot. Shiro’s a saint, if he could save her from this he would.

“Sorry Pidge, I would but I have to fix some stuff in the basement. Why don’t you ask Matt?”

“Please. We both know Matt’s useless before noon, he’s worse than Keith. I’d rather take my chances with the motorcycle.” She rolls her eyes again, “I swear, Keith, why couldn’t you just get a drivers license like a normal person. You already have a leather jacket, the bike is just overkill at this point. ‘ _Fuck_ _the_ _Man_ ’ or whatever, we _get_ it.”

Keith grabs his backpack and his keys as he walks out the door, thanking his brother for breakfast as he goes.

“Red is faster and more practical than a car, and also completely safe. But feel free to take the bus.” Keith says, as he straddles the bike and waits for Pidge to get on behind him.

She drags her feet, but they both know her equipment’s safer with Keith than at the risk of falling to the prying hands of the nosey kids on the bus. 

“Ugh. Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

With one final eye-roll she climbs on, “Of course. Of course you named it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaayyy next chapter we’re gonna finally get some Lance interaction and hopefully get this plot in motion! This Is Happening People


	3. “What Are You Playing At, Juliet?”

Keith slows his bike to a stop at the Garrison High School parking lot with seven minutes to spare before first period, not bad for all Pidge’s lack of faith in his punctuality. He parks by a tree next to a new looking silver Jeep at the edge of the seemingly endless front steps of the school building. He and Pidge stand there for a few seconds taking it in with a deep breath before they start heading up the steps together, dodging the maze of “oh my god!” and “eyy my mans!” post-summer clique reunions.

“So this is it, huh? High school.” says Pidge, disapprovingly eyeing a couple sloppily making out directly in front of the doorway.

“Guess it is.” replies Keith with a shrug.

The place looks the same, not that Keith expected it to look different, but you do forget after being away for a few months the particular mix of dread and familiarity that can only be generated by walking into your high school at 7:53 a.m.

Pidge comments under her breath what sounds like “leave room for Jesus” as they squeeze past the PDA couple and into the building.

Walking down the hall towards his locker Keith nods in recognition to the few friendly faces that glance his way, mostly other people on the track team, while focused on taking out his phone to pull up the schedule the school emailed him. If he’s using that as an excuse to keep his eyes down, that’s his business. He’ll pretend to be a functioning member of society capable of social interaction after second period.

A sideways glance tells him Pidge, the sweet innocent freshman demon that she is, still has a glimmer of curiosity and anticipation in her eyes. Ah, the wonders of youth. Keith is sure he just looks like he could have used three cups of coffee, a few more hours of sleep and probably a comb. Apparently he’s not the only one who notices because Pidge feels compelled to share her thoughts on his look, which he doesn’t remember asking for.

“You know, I forget how effective your resting bitch face is on poor unsuspecting strangers. You’ve really got them fooled with your mysterious loner act, when in reality you’re just annoying and sleep deprived. It’s kind of amazing.” she muses as they turn past a large group of sophomore girls he doesn’t recognize whispering in a corner into a hallway. Time seems to slow as Keith makes accidental eye contact with an objectively pretty, tall blonde girl, she’s the first to look away, blushing and whispering to her friends. They burst into a fit of giggles.

Okay. Well, that happened.

“I’m not a mysterious loner.” He replies to Pidge, quickly fixing his gaze back on his phone.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know. You’re not mysterious, you’re just a loner because you’re scared of friendship. Those girls back there don’t seem to have gotten the memo, though.” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses and glancing back and said girls, while Keith is pointedly avoids that line of sight.

“What are you talking about?” Keith feigns innocence as they reach a stop in front of his locker, fiddling to get it open, but he can feel eyes tracking his movement from across the hall. It makes him slightly uncomfortable. Not _uncomfortable_ uncomfortable like “I’m calling the fucking cops”, more like how you feel when your shoes are too tight or some distant relative asks why you’re still single.

“The girls intensely checking you out right now? They’re gonna be pretty disappointed when they find out you’re not only not mysterious but also not interested.”

“First of all, they weren’t checking me out.”

Pidge looks unimpressed for what feels like the hundredth time that day, so Keith decides to change topics.

“Second, I have friends. I just nodded at like, three and a half people outside.”

“You terrified those people, Keith. Only mobsters use solemn nods as a greeting. Friends are people you actually speak to and like.”

“Why are you still here? Go to class.” not Keith’s best comeback, but also not his worst.

“Its sad that I have to explain this to you, but friends also spend time with each other before classes and during breaks. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, its my sole purpose now that I’m here to dismantle your cool bad-boy reputation.” Pidge says casually leaning against the locker on Keith’s left, she then takes off her mummified backpack and throws it towards him.

“Also, I don’t have a locker yet, so I need you to keep this for me.” she adds with an innocent smile. Keith sighs, but catches the bag anyways, shoving it in with some force, but failing to get it to actually fit into the narrow rectangular space of his locker.

“You’re a demon, why could you possibly need this much stuff?! It’s high school, not a three year space expedition.” Keith says, while squishing the bulk of the backpack to somehow adjust to the area.

Pidge isn’t moved by his struggle with her bag, she crosses her arms and continues looking behind him, where Keith is guessing the group of sophomores girls is still congregating.

“I like to be prepared. If you had a license we could have taken the car, if we had the car I could leave my things there and neither of us would have this space issue. Really, you only have yourself to blame.” she pauses for a moment in thought, “— Do any of the girls swooning over you drive? Because if they don’t know you’re gay we could work with that.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to look unimpressed.

“You’re not pimping me out for storage space.”

Pidge looks frighteningly undeterred by his tone of intended finality, in fact there seems to be a suspicious air of peaked interest about her. Definitely worrying knowing her track record for ideas set in motion by that look, all resulting in Keith regretting his choice of friends.

“We’ll see about that. Does the guy heading over here right now have a car?” Pidge’s tone doesn’t waver but her eyes trace a tall figure making his way in their direction, “He looks like he’s either going to make a move on you or beat you up. Could go either way.” Keith, naturally, seems totally oblivious to this development.

“What the hell are you talking about, Pidge?”

With a final particularly aggressive shove Keith manages to shut his locker door, what he isn’t expecting is to find is Lance McClain glaring daggers at him on the other side of it.

And now that Keith has shut the door previously separating them it feels like there definitely isn’t enough room between them. How did he even get there so fast? Also, huh, does Lance look taller? And... more tan? Maybe it’s the white t-shirt he’s wearing, it’s a nice color on him.

Okay why is Keith running his eyes down Lance McClain’s body.

“What are you playing at, Juliet?” Lance is sporting narrowed expression of suspicion to go with his skintight blue jeans, and is pointing a finger less than an inch from Keith’s face.

Keith’s eyes widen as they focus on Lance’s finger, down his nicely toned lean arms and back to his affronted brows and assessing eyes.

Did Lance’s voice get deeper recently? Why did he still remember that stupid nickname from freshman year? Keith definitely remembers Lance being shorter. When was the last time the two of them had even talked? Snap out of it, Kogane, he asked you a question.

“What are you talking about?”

“Were you hitting on Nyma? Because she won’t stop talking about how you guys had ‘a moment’ and she hopes you ask her to the homecoming dance. What gives dude?” Okay, if Keith wasn’t lost before he definitely was now. Was he supposed to understand this conversation? Lance is worried Keith hit on some girl?

Stuck between confused, offended, and weirdly turned on by this turn of events, Keith attempts to swat Lance’s finger out of his face and seek some form of clarification.  
“Lance. I have no idea who Nyma is, the whole school knows I’m gay, and the only way I would attend a school dance is if someone knocked me out and dragged my unconscious body there without my consent.”

Lance didn’t seem convinced, if anything his eyes narrowed further as he stared into Keith’s eyes as if evaluating the validity of his statement. Apparently this boy hadn’t gown past his inclination for unnecessarily prolonged and intense eye contact. At this point Keith was matching Lance’s energy and glaring back with equal heat, never one to back down from a challenge. That had always been his issue with Lance, at the end of the day.

Were they getting closer somehow? He could feel Lance’s hot huffs of breath on his chin.

“Not to interrupt whatever this is, but I gotta ask, did this guy say his name was Lance? ... as in _Lance_ Lance?” Pidge’s voice knocked Keith back into place, and into a state of awareness, too many memories flashing through his brain of his extended Lance Rants of the past. Of course it was too much to hope Pidge could have just completely forgotten about that since it had been two years, then again when had she ever cut Keith any slack.

Keith had broken his eye contact with Lance and redirected to sending Pidge a loaded stare that nonverbally communicated _yes_ , _this_ _is_ Lance _Lance_ _for_ _the_ _love_ _of_ _God_ _do_ _not_ _say_ _a_ _word_ _or_ _I_ _will_ _fucking_ _end_ _both_ _of_ _us_.

Pidge’s comment as well as Keith’s internal crisis seemed to completely fly past Lance’s radar and he just picked up his argument with Keith from where that left off, “Well that’s exactly what I thought! But then there I went, planning on working some trademark Lance moves on the hot new girl, only to find her gushing about your dreamy eyes! She asked if I could ‘put in a good word for her’ which is insulting on so many levels—”

Keith furrowed his brows and glanced between Pidge, Lance and the blonde several feet behind them who was still blushing and apparently thought his eyes were dreamy as Lance continued his rant, of which Keith was understanding maybe 50%.

“— And I thought I knew you were exclusively into dudes, which is why I need to know if you’re expanding your horizons, because I approached this year with the preconception that I was decidedly the hottest single guy in junior year, top three in the high school, from the perspective of the ladies of such inclination. Now that was when I was excluding you from the ratings, but if I factor you in that messes up my whole scheme and might knock me out of the top five, so I if you’re thinking you might be into girls you need to tell me now, Juliet, so I can up my game.”

A full minute seemed to pass by where Pidge and Keith looked back and forth between each other and Lance, then back again as they let the ridiculousness of what they had just heard sink in, while Lance himself simply stood there, arms crossed and look defiant as if it was the most normal statement in the world and he dared them to say otherwise.

“Are you saying you think Kieth’s hotter than you?” Pidge eventually pointed out, staring directly at Keith as she said it.

Lance seems to just then notice there was another human being present other than Keith, and turned his head to face her, his body still fully angled towards Keith.

“Um yeah. Duh. Have you seen that jawline?” Lance responds to Pidge’s question by grabbing Keith’s jaw with one hand and gesturing towards it with the other as if it were more of a Shakespearean prop than a face attached to an actual human being. “Even with that terrible haircut he has the whole ‘bad-boy who hasn’t slept in 3 years but like in a hot way’ look going on. It’s so fucking unfair. If I don’t take the time to style my hair in the morning I look like a drowned rat.”

All the while Lance hasn’t let go of Keith’s face, his fingers intently but firmly maneuvering it, as the brain attached to that face seems unable to remember what a normal reaction is to this situation. It _can_ , however, process the pleasant heat of Lance’s fingers and delicacy in his touch. Because Keith’s brain hates him.

“Also, who are you, I didn’t know Keith had friends?” Lance asks, social butterfly that he is, addressing Pidge with curiosity.

“He doesn’t. I’m Pidge. Do you own a car by any chance?” Pidge adds on, like the leech she is.

“Yeah, I actually just got a brand new Jeep! Its parked right outside, its my baby.” Lance stretches out a hand to shake with Pidge, finally letting go of Keith’s face, unaware of her hidden agenda.

“Nice to meet you, by the way, I’m Lance.” The two share a polite handshake and seem to be amused by making each other’s acquaintance which is bad news for Keith’s brain, desperately trying to catch up with his mouth and terminate this interaction. Why was this happening anyways? Why was Lance even here, what had he been saying?

“I’m gay.” Was the statement that came out of Keith’s mouth.

That caught the other two’s attention as they both tuned to him, both amused, most likely for different reasons.

Keith avoided all eye contact as he stammered on trying to contextualize that gay declaration that had absolutely nothing to with with how much he enjoyed tall, cocky jocks randomly caressing his face. “I’m um, you asked if I was still gay. Yeah, yes. I’m still very very gay, so you can have Nina”

“Nyma.” Lance corrected.

Keith rolled his eyes, over this conversation, “Whatever. It’s not a conflict of interests. Shoot your shot, Lance. Or don’t, just leave me out of your love life. I thought you were dating Allura, anyways.”

If there’s a flash of hurt in Lance’s eyes its gone quickly enough, Keith might as well have imagined it, flirty smirk as confident as ever. Maybe Keith’s reading too much into it, but suddenly it doesn’t feel like it reaches his eyes.

“We broke up actually, so yeah. Single and ready to mingle.” Lance announces, technically to Keith, but loudly enough it is really just directed at the entire hall. Keith doesn’t know how he’s still annoyed or surprised by the wink and finger guns Lance tacks on at the end of that.

High school is still high school. Lance McClain is still Lance McClain.

The bell for first period shrieks through the building, sending mobs of teenagers scattered in different directions.

“That’s my cue. Nice meeting you, Pidge. See you around, helmet-hair.” Lance says, with a nod towards Pidge and then ruffling Keith’s hair and sauntering away.

If Keith watches him go, he’ll deny it to his grave.

“Shut up.” He says, not even looking at Pidge but already knowing her train of thought.

“I didn’t say a word.” Her tone is about a thousand miles from convincing.

“Go to class, demon.” Ears burning, Keith walks away from Pidge’s telling giggles that promise he hasn’t heard the last of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... it begins y’all. I’m sorry the chapters are so short imma try to post ones with more than one scene but it takes me 84 years so yeah, mess.


	4. Let’s Get Digital

Keith is sitting in his first class, barely registering the syllabus introduction the teacher is giving, very aware of the way his phone is vibrating in his pocket and who’s texts are almost certainly to blame. He’s sitting in the far back of the room, and isn’t paying attention anyways so he decides to bite the bullet and face Pidge’s torment. No use delaying the inevitable, he slides the screen open discreetly under his desk.

**_Pidge:_ **

_sooooo......................_

_Did that really just happen?_

_We met Lance_

_????????_

_And he grabbed your face_

_?? !?!? ?_

_The guy’s not just a figment of your imagination!_

**Keith:**

_We’re not talking about it_

**_Pidge:_ **

_The sexual tension between you two was Thicc_

**Keith:**

_I’m blocking u_

**_Pidge:_ **

_He has a brand new car. You should go for it._

**Keith:**

_Stop trying to pimp me out and pay attention in class_

**_Pidge:_ **

_Fine but meet me by the picnic tables and prepare to be Interrogated during break_

_What was Lance’s last name btw?_

**Keith:**

_why._

**_Pidge:_ **

_Reasons._

**Keith:**

_Pidge._

_**Pidge:** _

_Never mind, whatever I already found him_

**Keith:**

_found him WHERE_

_**Pidge:** _

_..._

_Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Spotify, Tumblr, Youtube, and LinkedIn_

**Keith:**

_I fear u_

_**Pidge:** _

_as you should._

**Keith:**

_stop stalking him you’re crazy_

_**Pidge:** _

_I can’t set you guys up if I don’t have all the data._

_I’m not an amateur, Keith._

**Keith:**

_You’re not setting us up because there’s nothing to set up._

_He’s probably getting back together with his ex in a week anyways_

_they were practically engaged._

_Not that it matters_

_Because he’s not my type_

_**Pidge:** _

_lmao_

_Keith pls_

_we both remember your crush on him_

_I was there_

_pretending Lance wasn’t your sexual awakening is just an insult to both our intelligences._

**Keith:**

_Um. Han Solo sparked my sexual awakening, how dare you._

_**Pidge:** _

_Tell yourself what you want Keith_

_If we’re talking celebrities we both know you had a thing for Taylor Lautner_

**Keith:**

_What can I say_

_#TeamJacob4Life_

_**Pidge:** _

_L o l_

_Anywayz_

_Pretty sure Lance & his ex aren’t getting back together any time soon_

_She’s dating some instagram model w 50k followers, Lotor Z??_

_(Image 1) (Image 2)_

_He’s the new face of La Croix and walked for Chanel at Milan fashion week ??? Wtf_

_No wonder Lance has been posting so many thirst traps post-break up_

Keith stared at the two images Pidge had sent, both screenshots of this Lotor guy’s instagram page. The first was a very heated shirtless mirror selfie of this undeniably handsome platinum blond with insane abs, taken standing in a luxurious walk-in closet while simultaneously drinking a can of apricot flavored sparkling water. The second was a photographer shot of a fashion show, the same guy walking down the runway in a velvet suit and his hair slicked back into a low ponytail. So this Legolas-meets-Abercrombie Model guy was dating Allura, and it only took Pidge five minutes to find that out. Keith’s not sure if this makes him want to throw all his technology out the window, or if he should finally cave and make an instagram account.

**Keith:**

_I feel like I understand 10% of this conversation right now_

_What is a thirst trap_

_am I ... old?_

_**Pidge:** _

_I swear to god, you’re worse than Shiro sometimes_

_(Image 3)_

_that’s a thirst trap_

_don’t faint lmao_

Keith waited for the picture to buffer, he could tell it was another shirtless selfie and assumed it was more of this Lotor Z. It was not. It was a screenshot from Lance’s instagram account instead, and if Keith was on the fence about getting instagram before now he was downloading the app on the spot. Not that Lance wasn’t already attractive in person, but it didn’t hurt that he definitely knew his angles and had definitely been working out more. The picture was a selfie taken of Lance’s reflection on a screen door, he was in navy swim trunks and dripping wet with a pair of sunglasses perched low on his up-tipped nose aiming at nonchalance, the background showing a pool and some girls sunbathing and setting down their books to send judgmental looks towards the camera. It appeared that the picture was from a few weeks ago, the caption read “sisters still jealous of my selfie game” and the location tagged was Varadero, Cuba.

**Keith** _:_

_Pidge what the— and i cannot stress this enough—fuck_

_**Pidge:** _

_maybe that’ll finally motivate u to join social media like a normal teenager u weirdo_

 

_**..........** _

 

Pidge and Keith are hanging around the empty outdoor picnic tables near the cafeteria, he’s sitting on the table leaning back on his elbows, eyes closed, trying to take in some midmorning sun. Pidge is talking up at him from her place on the adjacent bench laying on her back with her knees up, positioning her phone above her face so she can scroll while blocking the sunlight.

 

“So this is what we know: Lance and Allura broke up between seven and eight weeks ago. She started dating this Lotor guy officially two weeks ago, but it seems fair to assume he’s at least partly to blame for the break up since he’s been commenting on her pictures for months now. Her and Lance still follow each other, so I’m guessing they ended on relatively good terms, they also both look like they deleted any pictures they had together of just the two of them, but kept pictures up where they’re together in a group. And they still like each other’s posts. I’d put the chances of them getting back together at a 32% rounding up. Not too concerned, you’ve definitely got a chance.” says Pidge.

 

If he wasn’t familiar with her level of genius, Keith would drag her of spending more time researching the love lives of strangers than he has on any academic research assignment his entire life. Apparently Pidge could do both.

 

“I know I said this already, but you absolutely terrify me.” Keith re-emphasized.

 

“If you don’t at least try to get with this guy I’m going to be so disappointed in you. After I had to hear about your crush on him for an entire year.”

 

“It was two years ago, can we move on? He’s not even into guys.” As embarrassing as it was having his old crush on Lance hauled from the depth of his repressed memories, he didn’t really mind Pidge having her fun speculating on his fantasy love-life.

 

Its not as if anything could come from it, Lance was never an actual possibility.

 

It also served as a nice distraction while he got over his unfortunate Matt-related feelings. If Pidge was focused on Lance’s love triangle with his ex and an instagram model, she was much less likely to suspect Keith had a thing for her brother. And Keith had to admit the shift in Lance’s relationship status may have sparked his curiosity.

 

“Oh, he’s into guys.” Pidge responded without hesitation.

 

“No he’s not. How would you know?” Sure, they weren’t exactly best friends but Keith thought he knew Lance well enough that he would have know if he was into guys.

 

I mean he flirted, he was a flirty person, but he had never shown any actual interest in anyone that wasn’t a girl. With how obsessed Keith had been with the guy at the peak of his crush, he’s sure he would have noticed.

 

“So other than him being all over you this morning?” Pidge retorted.

 

“He was not all over me, he’s just like that.”

 

“Keith, I’m looking at his instagram profile as we speak. He follows Timothee Chalamet.”

 

“Following Timothee Chalamet is not an indicator of sexual orientation, Pidge.”

 

“Okay, but—“ she said, turning her screen towards Keith as evidence, “I think this selfie of him wearing glasses is literally captioned ‘bifocal, bilingual, and bisexual’ followed by a winky face emoji”

 

“Wait, seriously??” Huh. Keith snatched the phone from Pidge and held it unnecessarily close to his face, squinting, then at arms length blinking rapidly a few times and shaking his head as if to clear it.

 

“You know it’s not gonna change the more you stare at it.”

 

She was right, the picture and captioned remained unchanging no matter how intently he stared at them. All he got was Lance’s artfully casual selfie face staring up at the camera with half-lidded eyes through a pair of reading glasses with silver metal frames as he laid on a couch, an open book with a title in Spanish laying against his chest. Keith pinched the screen to zoom in closer, trying to read the book jacket.

 

“You were right, totally not your type—“ Pidge said, rightfully teasing as she rescued her phone before Keith self-combusted “—Anyways, look at this picture of his new car, so much storage space....”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I was gonna try to update sooner and longer chapters but that was a lie rip I wish I could be spending more time on this fic I have so many drafts but anywayz here is this

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo yeah...... if you’re down for the black hole that will be me trying to figure out how to write fan fiction..... here we go y’all
> 
> Here’s my tumblr btw its pretty new and has nothing on it but it me: problematicfavesonly.tumblr.com


End file.
